Mane Memories

Today I found my first grey hair. I expected to be petrified and go all crazy over it, but instead I smiled. Twenty eight years of my existence and my first grey hair, made me realize how grown up I am. No, I do not feel old. I just feel that I have grown up from what I was a few years ago. I stood in front of the mirror, parting my hair from all directions to check if there were any others. This took me back years ago, to a wonderful memory that I cherish till date.

One day I saw that my mother's hair had all greyed out and I decided to dye it for her. She even wanted a trim but was hesitant to go to a parlor. So I chose to step in. Armed with a pack of hair dye and scissors from her boutique, I spread out a news paper and asked her to sit on it. Adjusting my nerdy glasses I neatly combed her hair and we decided on the length that she wanted to keep. Slowly I placed the scissor through her thick locks and began snipping. The first cut was uneven and so was the second. The third one was more messier and there was no need for a fourth one. The decided length suddenly changed and by the time I was done with the hair cut, the desired length was reduced to half. I was all set for a sound hearing, but I got none. She loved it. She told me that now it would not take her long to get ready. Beaming, I mixed the hair dye and applied it on her hair with a tooth brush. Just like how I had seen her do the same to dad.

Most of her hair had gone grey and I was filled with emotion. I had seen pictures of her younger self where she had thick long jet black hair. I got my wonderful hair all thanks to her. But now looking at her short grey hair, I was on the verge of tears. Your parents are always your parents. You never really expect them to grow old. No matter how old they get they will always be your parents. It hit me like a bolt of lightening, that she was growing old. And she being she, sensed the discomfort that I was feeling. So she decided on doing this thing. For every stroke of the brush, she told me a story. She told me that her first grey hair reminded me of the time I topped class in the first standard. And the second one reminded her of my first medal. Another one reminded her of the first time I cooked something for her and another reminded her of what a wonderful daughter I have been. That was one of the most beautiful times of my life.

Years later when I was in my wild child phase and decided to color my hair red, she did not say a word. Instead she mixed the color for me and applied it carefully on my hair. I was amazed. When I asked her if she is angry, she asked me why should she be? She told me that we need to do whatever our heart desires. Just because I was a girl doesn't mean that I should not do a few things. That is when I realized what a wonderful mother she has been. She has given me the freedom to do whatever I want and has not once tried to interfere with my choices. This is the biggest gift ever that she has given me. She had no problems with the clothes I wore, or at what time I came back home at night. She trusted me to the fullest and that was enough for me to follow the right path only. Being a working lady herself she has always told me to give a hundred percent to my work. She loves going out shopping. She loves eating outside and watching movies. That day I realized that my mother was actually my best friend.

After the hair wash I noticed that my hair looked way too red and I cringed. But she told me that I looked nice and that it looked really stylish. Within a few hours I was in love with it too and I'm glad that she did not let me give up. Today as I look back, I see a plethora of memories that we share and how each one of it is so special. No one has ever come close to being the woman that she is today. At the age of fifty eight, she runs her own business and takes care of the family without any help. She has no maid to wash clothes or vessels. She does it all herself and she is the inspiration for the person that I am today. She gave me freedom. She trusted me. There was nothing else more that she could do for me. That was enough.

Today as I stand in front of the mirror picking out one grey hair after another, I cannot help but smile. I know that the next time I visit my mother, she would help me dye the greys as well. And that would be the beginning of another beautiful memory.

All that I am today is because of the freedom to choose that she gave me. I am not afraid to grow old today, as I know that I shall always have her by my side. Every grey hair of mine represents the learnings that she gave me. And the strength that she is for me. She, my mother, my first expert.

That was such a sweet post. For me, once in every while, Sunday mornings are reserved for dyeing mom's grey hairs. While I get all emotional seeing her like that, knowing she is growing old, it is also a happy time we spend together; only the two of us :)

About The Blog

Every written word in this space is my thoughts alone. Do not try to relate it to your life and create a scene in my circles. Believe me, if I wanted to write about someone who has wronged me, I'd write a story and kill that person off in the first line. As grotesquely as possible.
Stop making assumptions. But hey, if the shoe fits, lace up the bitch and wear it!

My Reading Dose

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